


Sanctuary

by theoceanfloodeditsbanks



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoceanfloodeditsbanks/pseuds/theoceanfloodeditsbanks
Summary: Jean had a place at the Nest, but it was more a place to survive than a place to live. Now he's at USC and he's not quite comfortable. Jeremy is like the blinding sun and the rest of the team can be overwhelming. Demons still hide and will always hide in the dark corners of Jean's mind. But now he has Jeremy and he has the rest of the team and he thinks that maybe one day he might be able to make some light of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

Jean had a strained relationship with sleep. After having run on sixteen hour days for so long, sleeping for any length of time still felt strange. Despite having left the shadows of Evermore and transferring to the sunshine of USC four months ago, Jean was still struggling to establish a sleep pattern that was even remotely close to normal. He was just glad that pre-season started a month before classes. It would give him a chance to adjust his sleep schedule. He was not optimistic enough to believe that it would help him adjust to the people.

Jean's days still followed a schedule. The routine helped him keep his head on straight with all the changes happening around him. He still rose early, and immediately headed out for a run. A few laps around campus and through some of the surrounding streets, only a few miles. Once back at the dorm, he would shower and eat breakfast. Exy tapes would follow, then court time. Lunch and some reading, and Jean would head to the gym. He'd shower again, cook dinner and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. 

Since nighttime was Jean's biggest problem area in terms of adjusting his schedule, Jean had built a nighttime routine to try to fix his circadian rhthyms. Brush his teeth, wash his face, find his softest sweatpants and pull on an old t-shirt three sizes too big, and clamber into bed with his laptop and headphones. Find some awful movie that isn’t worth watching on Netflix, a luxury he was still amazed by, and try to fall asleep. His routine usually concluded with him gently putting his laptop on the floor and staring at the ceiling for another hour before maybe falling into a fitful sleep at about midnight. Even on nights that he was physically in bed way before midnight, it seemed that his body couldn't sleep any earlier than that, no matter how exhausted he was from training. 

Jean’s nighttime routine usually ended with him waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tangled in his blankets. Sometimes he yelled. Sometimes he woke up Jeremy. The nights Jean woke up screaming were always the worst. He would wake up with his heart about to leap out of his chest, panicking because he was making too much noise, showing too much pain. In those moments, just being was too much.

Actually, Jean’s nighttime routine usually ended with him in the kitchen, just sitting in silence. Often, Jean dragged a blanket out with him, despite the heat of August in California. He would wrap himself in the blanket and use its soft warmth to ground himself and remind himself he was not in the cold of the Nest anymore. Jeremy and hot chocolate was a recent addition to the routine, after Jeremy realize how frequently Jean was up at night. They rarely talked and if they did, it was usually a brief exchange about whether or not to put marshmallows in the hot chocolate that night. Hot chocolate was an indulgence that Jean never had in the Nest and he usually did not finish his cup, overwhelmed by its rich sweetness.

Jean did most of his thinking then, late at night, sitting quietly in the still of the kitchen, watching Jeremy trying to stay awake with him. The night always felt like a good time for dark thoughts. Black thoughts to match the black sky and the blackness Jean could feel buried deep in his heart. Voices from his past echoed loudly at night without the bustle of day to keep them quiet. Years at the Nest had caused self-hatred to mark a worn path through his head. It was easy to slip back into that place. Rivers follow the path of least resistance, and for Jean that was a path that kept him facing demons that no one deserved to face. Jean would let the river of negativity wash over him, the tug at the pit of his stomach achingly familiar.

Lately, Jeremy had started talking to Jean as they sat there. It was almost as if Jeremy knew that the night was bad. The conversations were a little stilted and awkward at first but they were getting smoother. They helped to draw Jean out of the Nest and into the relative warmth of the cramped, ugly kitchen. Jean was almost coming to expect it, anticipate it even. Tonight was one of those nights that Jeremy would start talking. Jean could see it in the careful way he held himself still, none of the fidgeting that he usually did, in misguided effort to not spook him. By the time Jean made it out to the kitchen on any given night, he had already been past spooked, into terrified, and back again. Jean looked at Jeremy, noting the quiet turbulence creasing his brow and pulling down the corners of his mouth.

“Jean?”

Jean met Jeremy’s eyes over the rim of his mug, raising an eyebrow.

“You know you can talk to any of us, right?”

Jean looked away and didn’t reply. There was no need to define the us. Jean knew immediately that Jeremy meant the team; it still startled him sometimes how freely Jeremy put his trust into his teammates. Jean supposed Jeremy had never been given a reason not to. A luxury Jean wished he had been afforded-Kevin was the closest thing to a friend he had and he left him behind without a second glance. Jean did not have any faith in the ability of a stranger he was paying to complain to being able to help him.

***

Jean woke with a muffled yell, sitting bolt upright in bed, swinging at a person dead and buried. Jean startled at the wheezing gasp coming from somewhere to his left, automatically flinching away and squeezing his eyes shut. He braced himself for a fist, a knife, a yell. When it clicked a moment later that he was not in the Nest and Riko was not standing over him with his maniacal grin, Jean leaned over the edge of the bed to peer at the floor where a shuffling noise was coming from.

Jeremy was sitting on the floor, rubbing his cheek and swearing softly. When he heard Jean shift, he looked up to him, offering a smile that turned into more of a wince. 

“C’mon,” mumbled Jeremy, standing up, “I need hot chocolate.”

Jean stirred hot chocolate as Jeremy hunted through their freezer for some ice.

“You really got me,” Jeremy said, his voice muffled from inside the freezer, “That was a nice swing for just waking up.”

Jean stared resolutely at the mugs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. I thought you were...someone else.”

Jeremy pulled his head out of the freezer to look at the back of Jean’s head. Jean was no longer stirring the hot chocolate. Instead, he had his hand clenched tightly around the spoon, shoulders hunched over defensively. Jeremy could see the way his breathing was starting to get choppy. 

“I’m so sor-”

“Jean,” Jeremy cut in loudly, putting his head back in the freezer. “Did I ever tell you about the time I decked Coach when he tried to wake me up when I was sleeping on the bus? Gave him a black eye. He didn’t do anything, just told me that I needed to get warmed up if I didn’t want to sit out the rest of the season with a knee injury.”

Jean kept his back turned to Jeremy and his head down as he picked up the two mugs and headed for the kitchen table. 

“Jean. I’ll probably have a black eye tomorrow. I don’t really care. I just need you to help me come up with a reason for it to make me sound like a badass. I’m not mad.”

“Sorry,” whispered Jean into his hot chocolate.

Jeremy shook his head. He sat down across from Jean,balancing a package of frozen vegetables on his face, and stretched out his hand for his mug. Jean nudged it closer to him, without making eye contact.

“It’s fine. It was my fault anyway. I shouldn't have been so close to you without your permission.”

Jean glanced up at Jeremy, scanning his face quickly. Jeremy was purposefully looking out the window, impromptu ice pack on the table, straining to see the stars through the light pollution of the campus and letting Jean look at his face without having to make eye contact. Jeremy would definitely bruise, but he wasn't bleeding. Jean nodded quickly, a tiny bob of his head. 

“If anyone asks, I got into a fight with a raccoon and the raccoon won. Also, we should clean out the freezer because there's no ice cream and too many peas.”

Jean let a glimmer of a smile drift over his face.

***

A few weeks later, Jean woke up in the middle of the night. Cutting through his dream of blood and fear was an insistent voice calling his name.

Jean blinked his eyes, giving himself a second to focus his vision. Then he turned onto his side, looking for the source of the voice. Jeremy was standing just out of reach next to his bed, with his desk lamp turned on.

“One marshmallow or two?”

Jean followed Jeremy to the kitchen. “Two. Sorry for waking you.”

Jeremy tossed the bag of marshmallows at him. “Not a problem. I was still awake anyway. I really hate math. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jean made a noncommittal noise. “It’s not as bad as it was.”

Jeremy nodded. “I have a really nice therapist if you don’t want to talk to me. Just let me know and I’ll give you her phone number.”

Jean shrugged. He knew he needed to call and he knew that he was in a place now that therapy might actually help him. The months of being around the team and Jeremy, who talked so openly about his own mental health issues, had made Jean more receptive to the idea. He would call tomorrow.

***

Months pass, and Jean still had nightmares. Slowly, they were shifting. Imperceptibly, the topic was changing from Jean getting hurt to Jean watching Jeremy or Laila or Sara getting hurt. Jean didn’t notice until one night when he woke up, his first reaction wasn’t to curl into a ball, but to leap out of bed toward Jeremy’s bed. Jean tripped on his laptop charger that was lying across the floor and landed on the ground with a dull thud.

Jeremy rolled over, peeling one of his eyes open.

“Jean?”

Jeremy frowned when he didn’t see Jean in his bed. 

“Jean?”

Jean shuffled to his feet. 

“Here,” Jean whispered, “I’ll go make hot chocolate.”

Jeremy followed Jean into the kitchen, blinking blearily in the light.

“Alright? No broken bones?”

Jean snorted. “I fell out of bed, Jeremy, not off a cliff. I’m fine.”

“That’s Neil’s line.”

Jean smiled. “One marshmallow or two?”


	2. Chapter 2

Only a month after the season had started, and it already looked like the USC Trojans were on the path to finals. They had just won their third game by seven points. They were undefeated, sports commentator were predicting they would stay that way for the rest of the regular season, and everyone was feeling good. Jean was slowly coming down the adrenaline buzz that had been surging through his veins. He was starting to appreciate the Trojan way of playing-less precise, more instinctive. It was serving them well this season and Jean could feel himself beginning to play with his gut more. He was almost enjoying the sport again.

The team was throwing a party. Not a raging party with kegs of cheap beer and pounding music in a cramped basement. The team was throwing a party when every single one of them was exhausted. Instead of a club, they congregated on the green outside of the one dining hall still open on campus that late. Jeremy brought his laptop, Laila donated a large white sheet, and a player who was a film major brought a projector. A couple of people headed into the dining hall to get popcorn while the rest of the team decided on a movie.

Jean had settled himself on the edge of the group, watching a few Trojans have a fiery debate over movie choice. Jeremy quietly sat down next to him.

“What do you want to watch?”

Jean jumped.

“Sorry,” Jeremy winced, “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jean focused his gaze on his feet.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. His heart was slowing again, and Jean was surprised to find himself glad that Jeremy was sitting next to him. Jeremy was currently one of the calmest players on the team, in sharp contrast to Laila, who was running around yelling about some movie are another at the top of her lungs. The rest of the team was loud too, yelling back at Laila or loudly recounting some of the more exciting plays of the game. Jean could see Alvarez out of the corner of his eye dramatically pretending to block a ball in slow motion, complete with wild facial expressions.

There was suddenly a collective cheer from the rest of the team. The popcorn had arrived, the fresh buttery scent filling the air. The popcorn was still warm when Jean dipped his hand into the large bag that had been thrust into his hands. The projector also flickered to life, displaying the opening credits of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. This was met with a mix of cheers and groans.

Jean looked over at Jeremy, who was shaking with laughter.

“What?”

“Oh,” gasped Jeremy, “You’re gonna love it.”

***

“That,” Jean said emphatically to the ground, “was the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”

They were walking back to the dorm together. Jeremy had stayed until the end of the credits to collect his laptop. Jean had stayed back as well, not feeling up to walking back with the rest of the team. A popcorn fight had broken out, and the team was still buzzing with adrenaline despite having played hours before. Jean was still working on getting used to players with so much life.

"Oh, come on," Jeremy retorted, "I saw you smile at some of those jokes. You have to admit it was a little bit funny."

Jean shrugged. "It does not mean that I have to like it."

“If they aren’t awake after the rest of the team passed through, then they can sleep through anything,” Jeremy said a few minutes later. "I feel bad for anyone that lives in these dorms."

Jean looked up. The two of them were cutting across the large quad between dorm buildings, a no-man’s land this late at night. Without students covering the lawn, the quad seemed larger than he remembered. All of a sudden, Jean felt the wide open space start to crush in on him. Jean fought back a wave of panic and tried to push down the feeling of insignificance that was growing in his chest. His steps faltered without him noticing, as Jean slowed nearly to a halt.

Jean heard muffled cursing behind him and spun around to see Jeremy sprawled across the ground.

“I tripped,” he admitted sheepishly, gesturing weakly at the low curb in front of him.

Jean sighed, dropping onto the ground next to him when Jeremy made no move to get up. He could feel his heart pounding, the edges of fear retreating again in the face of the ridiculousness of the situation. Feeling the ground solid against the back of his legs made him feel marginally better.

“You are supposed to be coordinated.”

“Oh, well,” Jeremy responded, "I’m not dead yet.”

“Mon Dieu,” Jean grumbled, “You are useless. How did you become captain again?”

“Hey, now,” Jeremy protested, “Look up. You can see the stars from here. If I hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t be seeing them. I'm still useful for some things.”

They both fell silent and Jean tipped his head back, just watching the sky. It was a new moon, so all that was visible was the weak, dusty glow of stars and the occasional blinking lights of a plane flying overhead. Jean pushed against the feeling of anxiousness nudging at the edge of his mind. Jean so desperately wanted to be able to enjoy the stars and the openness of the sky after so many years spent trapped beneath the ground. Jeremy began softly naming constellations, trying to point them out in the sky. Once his knowledge of constellations ran out, he began singing every star-themed song he could think of. After a while, he fell silent again. Jean almost missed the off-key singing.

Jean finally broke the silence.

“We should probably head back. We have practice tomorrow.”

Jeremy hummed. “Or we could stay here.”

“The ground is cold, I’m tired, and my back hurts,” Jean said dryly, trying not to let on how uncomfortable saying his back hurt made him. "Do your job as a captain and set a good example."

“Okay,” Jeremy stood up, offering Jean a hand, “All good points.”

Jean hauled himself up, and they started toward the dorms again.

“Hey, Jean?”

“Yes?”

“Do the stars make you feel small?”

Jean paused, and Jeremy halted with him. For a split second, Jean feared that Jeremy had seen his uncertainty on his face before remembering that it was dark and Jeremy had not been looking at him anyway. The question seemed out of place, and Jean let himself wonder what Jeremy was thinking for a split second before answering.

“No,” he said slowly. 

“You didn’t see the stars there,” Jeremy said softly, and it’s a statement and a question all at once.

Jean shook his head. “No."

Jeremy began walking again, and Jean fell in beside him. Jeremy did not ask any more questions and Jean did not offer any more information. When they reached the front door of the dorm building, they both stopped and looked up again. The stars were no longer visible, blocked out by the lights illuminating the doors.

"Light pollution," Jeremy said softly, "The least they could do is put lights on motion detectors."

Jean squinted at the sky. "Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there."

They stood there a second more before Jeremy reached out for the door. "Methinks it's bedtime, Jean."

Jean smiled. "I'll stay out a little longer. Good night, Jeremy."

Jeremy nodded. "I'll leave a desk lamp on."

Jeremy disappeared inside. Jean let his head drop all the way back. Somehow, the distant light of the stars felt less imposing now and Jean was beginning to understand why people might wish on stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am nothing if not self-indulgent  
> find me on tumblr @thatbastardsportexy

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @thatbastardsportexy


End file.
